


Love Is Tone-Deaf, Not Blind

by Technoplague



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Shiro (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Loves Music, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Prompt Fill, Shiro (Voltron) Can't Sing, Singing, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Technoplague/pseuds/Technoplague
Summary: For Tumblr Sensory Prompt #47: Singing Badly As Loud As You CanKeith loves music and Shiro can’t sing. Shiro tries to impress Keith by learning some songs he knows Keith loves and Keith can’t deal with hearing the vocals butchered





	Love Is Tone-Deaf, Not Blind

_What in the actual fuck is that god awful noise?_ is Keith’s first thought upon waking up with what he would classify as a five-star hangover. _What unholy abomination has come to disrupt me sleeping this shit off?_ is the immediate second thought.

The noise in question is just loud enough to be a nuisance, but not so loud that he feels like his roommates are going to wake up. Keith, despite hangovers or illness, is a notoriously light sleeper. The slightest disruption to his usual at-home sleeping arrangement is enough to either wake him up or cause a horrible fitful sleep that usually ended with a headache. His roommates liked to say he was just a finicky sleeper, Keith knew he had always been this way.

When the noise continues, much to his displeasure, he decides staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what it was isn’t going to solve anything. He was honestly going to pinch whoever had left the music on- Oh, which, might have been him if his fuzzy memories were serving correctly.

He had been the one in charge of the music last night for the party. One of his roommates, Lance, had begged him to be the “DJ” since Keith was so music obsessed and Lance didn’t know reggae from rock. An exaggeration, but Lance’s music taste was dreadful and Keith was not going to spend an entire party grimacing and fielding complaints from friends that someone needed to do something. Not again. Especially since Shiro was supposed to be coming (if Pidge was right, and she usually was), and maybe subconsciously Keith was hoping to impress him with his music taste. He had no clue what Shiro was into, but he hoped it matched up with his own tastes. So Keith had agreed and had set up a playlist on Lance’s laptop. They weren’t all danceable songs, but most of the crowd coming just wanted to drink and play games so he hadn’t been too worried about it.

How to explain Shiro, though? His reaction when he showed up (Keith owed Pidge ten bucks for being right) upon hearing the rather odd music choice had been shock, and then a grimace, but then his chiseled features had softened. It had been too late, though, as Keith had seen the myriad of emotions on the older, taller man’s face and his heart had sunk. The scar across the bridge of Shiro’s nose had wrinkled adorably but Keith hadn’t had it in him to swoon over it tonight, not when Shiro’s distaste was a reaction to Keith’s own choices. Keith has spent the remainder of the night brooding and taking every shot that was offered and hiding in the corner by the ridiculous palm tree that inhabited the living room (who the hell bought that thing? He certainly didn’t remember purchasing it.)

But now morning was here, and Keith was now certain he had left the playlist going. He can feel his mood souring as he struggles to get out of bed to turn the blasted thing off. He is once again mad at himself for his own music tastes and he can’t tell if the nausea is due to being hungover or because Shiro’s disgusted face flashed through his mind. The heart-squishing feeling in his throat is definitely because he now knows Shiro will never like him, they’re fundamentally incompatible if Shiro doesn’t like his music. Music is everything to Keith, it’s what keeps him going and helps him get out of bed every morning.

“Fuck, okay, let’s get this shit off,” he grumbles to himself as he swings his long legs from under the covers, feet planting into the plush rug beside his bed. His toes curl into it momentarily in his usual morning wake-up ritual and he stretches his arms up, spine cracking along with one shoulder. Ugh, he’d slept wrong. He was going to pay for it with more than a hangover later. He casts his violet gaze to the clothes in the corner of the room and disregards them quickly; no use getting dressed just to turn a laptop off then crawl back into bed. So off he goes to the living room, in his Voltron boxer-briefs; they had been a joke gift from Lance since Voltron was Keith’s favorite band, but joke was on Lance because Keith wore them all the time and ‘offended Lance’s delicate sensibilities’ by walking around the apartment in them.

Once he exits his room the music is louder but still not too much. He doubts anyone else will be disturbed by it but it’s enough to keep him up and he should deal with it now so Lance doesn’t complain later. But his hungover/not-quite-awake mind doesn’t register that the music isn’t coming from the living room- where Lance’s laptop is closed and tucked away in the TV stand. So, where the fuck is it coming from? Keith stands there with his head cocked, eyes squinting at the offending laptop like it’s somehow lying to him by being shit down. It had to be that, where else would it be coming from? And who else would play Voltron but him? 

The music suddenly gets louder and Keith can now tell it’s terribly off key the more he wakes up as he tries to puzzle out the morning mystery. Okay, so someone was awake and signing. That had to be it. He was going to kill Lance for butchering his favorite band’s music, it was a cardinal sin in this house and everyone knew it.

With a growl, and a wince because now his head pounds from the self-inflicted stress of someone butchering the music, he turns to the kitchen to confront the heathen that would dare defile the greatest pop-punk band in existence. The awful excuse for music just gets louder as he enters the kitchen, and he knows he’s found the culprit.

The culprit, however, is not his gangly Cuban roommate like he had assumed. The culprit is, shockingly, a tall Japanese man with shoulders as wide as a house and a back so sculpted Keith can already feel his mouth watering. And said man is dancing, as terribly as his singing, around the kitchen as he hunts down plates and pops bread into the shitty Star Wars toaster (it didn’t toast for shit but Keith is enamored with it because it looks like the Death Star). Any argument Keith has to the noise dies in his throat as he watches Shiro move around the kitchen singing the song he had walked in on last night. The song Keith had swore he hated because of the face. But a song that Shiro seemed to know the words to.

Shell-shocked and still not awake enough to be convinced he isn’t dreaming, he stands and watches the taller man move around the kitchen making breakfast. Multiple breakfasts, if the two plates were anything to judge by. Keith didn’t even know Shiro knew his way around their kitchen, but he shouldn’t have been surprised since Pidge was so close with the man. Shiro butters the toast and plates eggs with ease, oblivious to Keith’s presence and still singing horribly off-key. He’s onto a different Voltron song now and Keith isn’t sure he can take much more of this, dream or not. It’s cruel in several ways, one of which being he’s watching his crush dance around his kitchen in sweats singing his favorite band badly and Keith isn’t sure who that breakfast is for and why had Shiro stayed the night and how hadn’t Keith known this? Oh, yeah- he’d been pouting all night.

But by the end of Shiro’s third song-butchering, Keith has decided he actually, positively, can’t deal with any of this nonsense this early in the morning. So he does the only thing his awkward mind can come up with, and that’s to start singing with Shiro but way more in-tune and with accurate lyrics. And Shiro, apparently as awkward as Keith, drops the butter knife to the floor and spins to face the intruder. Both men stare at each other, music dying off as they take in the situation.

Shiro breaks first, his eyes flitting down Keith’s torso to take in his undressed appearance then his face turning as red as the kitchen walls. Keith, now aware he’s nearly naked in front of the man he’s pretty sure he’s in love with, makes a most undignified squeak and makes a break for his bedroom, completely ignoring Shiro’s distressed cry of his name.

He slams the door harder than necessary and dives for the pile of clothes in his room, coming up with an oversized NASA shirt and pants he’s sure would qualify as leggings if a girl wore them (screw whoever thought tight jeans with his long legs looked bad, he liked them). Quickly, he pulls it all on and is managing to tug his head through the shirt as his door opens. He lets out another squeak and yanks the shirt down, staring wide-eyed at Shiro who looks like he’s seen heaven. His cheeks are flushed an adorable pink and the scar across his nose stands out in contrast. Those gray eyes are wide and starry, pools Keith can get lost in if he doesn’t look away. Shiro’s eyes have always drawn Keith in and he can’t get distracted right now. So he clears his throat to break the tension...or add to it, knowing his awful luck.

Shiro seems to snap out of his daze and meets Keith’s eyes, cheeks darkening before he shakes his head and starts looking anywhere else.

“You’re in my room,” Keith blurts, unhelpfully. _Duh, Kogane. He knows he’s in your room._

Shiro, however, must not realize this. His eyes widen a fraction before he jumps backwards, putting distance between himself and the doorway. Keith snickers at the action and, clothed and feeling marginally less embarrassed, steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. The hallway is tight, tighter now with Shiro’s inhuman bulk taking up half of it, and he ends up pressed almost chest to chest with the man. He looks up as Shiro looks down, and both look away quickly. Keith slides past back to the living room, hearing the soft patter of Shiro’s bare feet on the wood behind him signifying he was following him. When he feels he’s in an open enough area, he turns to see Shiro standing far enough away that they can both breathe.

Keith chooses to speak first, breaking the awkward silence. “Didn’t know you spent the night.”

Shiro grimaces and rubs his neck, the flex making his skin move deliciously across his chest and arm. Keith steadfastly keeps his eyes locked on Shiro’s forehead so he doesn’t start drooling. “Yeah, uh... Pidge recommended I stay cause I guess I drank more than she was comfortable with?” His voice is a little rough, but still sweet. He looks up to meet Keith’s stare then looks away. “I hope that’s okay?” He sounds so unsure if his presence is welcome, and why wouldn’t it be? Pidge can have whoever she wants over.

Keith voices as much and Shiro squints at him, trying to decipher the waver at the end of Keith’s sentence. “It seems like it bothers you that I’m here.”

Keith’s head snaps away and he does his best not to pout as he crosses his arms over his chest. Deciding he’s being a child, he glances back to Shiro but keeps his face turned away to hide his expression. Maybe it would help his nerves if he didn’t look directly at the man before him. “Nope. Doesn’t bother me one bit.” A snort from the taller man has Keith openly glaring directly at him now. “What the fuck does that mean, Shirogane?”

Shiro’s eyes widen a fraction before he breaks into a loud laugh, doubling over and mirth predominantly displayed. “You look like an angry cat right now! And you cursed! I know Pidge has a swear jar around here for you, you owe a dollar!”

Keith visibly bristles and stalks forward, shoving at Shiro’s shoulder as he keeps laughing. “Fuck you! You’re laughing at me,” he yells. There’s a hint of frustration in his voice that Shiro seems to catch, and the man composes himself. Keith watches him stand up straight, fingers flexing on his hands as he seems to fight with something internally. So Keith steps back to give him space.

Something flashes quickly across Shiro’s face but it’s gone before Keith can place it. “I wasn’t trying to laugh at you, I’m sorry.” He stuffs his fidgety hands into the pockets of his sweats, and then takes them out just as quickly, rubbing at his arms. Keith wonders where the pants came from, but it’s not a big concern. Shiro probably kept gym clothes in his car with as much as he worked out... not that Keith knew how much Shiro worked out. Not at all. “I really wasn’t, Keith. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he looks towards the kitchen then back at Keith with a large smile. “I made you breakfast? I figured you weren’t feeling well so I wanted to make you something to help you get the day started.”

The breakfast... was for Keith? No. Shiro must have made it for Pidge but because he’d made Keith feel bad he was offering it to him as a peace offering. Keith snorts and rolls his eyes, smirking internally at the shock on Shiro’s face at the gesture. “I don’t want to take Pidge’s breakfast. She’ll eat me in retaliation. No thanks.”

Shiro schools his features into normalcy and pegs Keith with a sincere stare. “I didn’t make it for Pidge, though? I made it for you.” He sounds both sure and I sure, as if he can’t fathom why Keith doesn’t believe him but desperately wants him to.

It’s Keith’s turn to look shocked. “Why?” _What the fuck, Keith? Use real words!_

“I uh... I wanted to apologize? Pidge said I made a weird face when I came in last night and that Voltron is your favorite band and she said you saw and that you got, and I quote, pouty about it.” He’s rambling, and it’s cute. Keith isn’t even mad that Pidge spilled the beans. Shiro’s embarrassed rambling is too adorable for Keith to even process anything else. “So yeah, I knew you were probably hungover and I wanted to make breakfast and apologize and then-“ he stutters to a stop and his cheeks flame up again, Keith’s heating as well because he knows he’s staring at Shiro but can’t help it. Shiro clears his throat. “I wanted to ask you on a date today?”

Keith’s brain screeches to a halt then starts up again, jumbling all his thoughts together like a deadly train crash. Date? With Shiro? Was he dreaming again? But Shiro’s open expression tells him he isn’t, and fuck this is everything he wanted. But there’s just one thing... “Okay, yeah.” Shiro’s eyes light up. “I’ll go out with you. Not like I haven’t wanted to for months now.” He smirks when Shiro chokes and decides to twist the knife in a little. “On one condition.”

Shiro nods eagerly, already bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited child. “Anything! Of course! Oh! But breakfast is getting cold, we should-“

Keith holds a hand up and Shiro stops, staring at him expectantly. “You’re not allowed to butcher any more Voltron songs. I can’t fucking take it. I can’t date a guy who is going to destroy every song from my favorite band. And how do you even know the fucking lyrics? Your face last night was like you hated them!” Keith is rambling now.

Shiro grins at this. “Oh, no I don’t hate them! I was just surprised someone else likes them! I wouldn’t have guessed badass Keith Kogane was into a pop-punk band, so I was kind of beating myself up about making a bad assumption about you? I always thought you wouldn’t like me because I liked them.”

The silence afterward stretches then snaps as both men laugh at the absurdity. Shiro smiles that 100-watt grin and Keith is lost to it. “But no deal, I’m not gonna stop singing Voltron songs. So you either date the most tone-deaf guy around or you don’t like me as much as you imply you do.” He has the audacity to wink and Keith knows he’s lost. He can’t give up on Shiro just because he can’t sing.

“Fine,” Keith huffs. “But I’m gonna teach you the right lyrics and hopefully teach you to sing at least slightly less off key. I honestly thought someone was dying in my kitchen this morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr as [Technoplague](https://technoplague.tumblr.com/)


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